Injured
by ThePrettiestHell
Summary: After two months in the Spring Court, Feyre is injured in an attack when the King of Hybern gets impatient waiting for Tamlin to retrieve the Book. Alis manages to contact the Inner Circle and the High Lady is brought home. Can Rhys save is mate or will he lose his queen? ONE SHOT.


This idea came to me in a dream. I woke up and I'm like...ooh, I could write that, so here it is. I hope you like it!

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Exhaustion seeped deep into my bones as I flew above the familiar forests and mountains of my lands. It was the middle of the night and the quiet was calming; the wind making for an ideal trip. Winnowing would have been a lot faster, but I wanted the time to process some of the information I had gathered.

It had been almost two months since the King of Hybern forced my mate to hand herself over to Tamlin. I would have misted him and every godsdamned person in that room if I had my powers, but luck was not on my side.

Instead, I had to watch as my High Lady, my queen, walked into the arms of my enemy. She had spent the last two months in the heart of the Spring Court playing a traumatized prisoner, gleaning plans that Hybern's king had, and feeding me information she had gathered. When she told me Hybern's army had begun moving into Spring Court territory, I knew the plans that my Inner Circle and I had come up would need to be executed. And soon.

First and foremost, that meant having allies in the upcoming war. The Summer Court had been the only court that had shown interest in becoming friendly with the Night Court, others being neutral or leaning towards the other side of a very distinct line.

Feyre had been right when she said that Tarquin was interested in an alliance with me, but since we didn't end things on the best terms, there was some work to be done.

My trip to the Summer Court had started out extremely tense, to say the least. The blood rubies from the last trip were still in play and with a price on my head, I had glamoured myself heavily in order to avoid detection. Tarquin was a bit angry to find me lounging on his bed, but after explaining everything that was happening, he had promised to retract the blood rubies. He was still wary of the Night Court, but it would be a start.

I had let my typical High Lord façade fall. Desperate times called for desperate measures and if building an alliance meant sincerity and honesty, so be it. I left the Summer Court feeling a smidgen better about the situation, but that was short lived.

From the moment I landed in the House of Mist, I knew something was…off. It was always relatively quiet in the house, but there was a preternatural stillness that set me on edge. Something was wrong.

"Rhys!" Mor cried out as she barreled down the stairs. She looked utterly distraught, eyes lined with silver. The last time I had seen her like this was when Jurian had shot Azriel with a poisoned ash bolt. My heart dropped.

"Mor," I said breathlessly. "What's wrong?"

"It's Fey—" She didn't get a chance to finish as I took off, taking the stairs three at a time. I crashed through the door to our rooms that had been left open and stopped dead in my tracks.

I pulled at the bond I shared with her, our mating bond, and felt…nothing. The bond had been quieter ever since the ordeal with the King of Hybern, but it was always there, a solid presence to remind me that Feyre was alright. It was silent now. How did I miss the bond's lack of presence? What had happened? My heart started racing.

Amren was sitting on a chair next to the bed, Feyre's hand in hers while she spoke quietly with Ada, one of the best healers that Velaris had. My Second in command looked up at my entrance, her eyes rimmed with red. I had no idea if I had ever seen Amren reveal so much emotion and the sight made my knees turn to jelly.

Azriel stood by one of the windows, arms crossed, seeming to struggle to keep his shadows in check. He kept clenching and unclenching his fist as if they were overpowering him. Cassian sat in a second chair on the other side of the bed, his wings still bandaged, but on a very slow mend.

I approached the bed and stopped next to Amren, finally turning my gaze to my mate's body on our bed. She was laid out on her stomach, something that she didn't normally do, her skin almost as white as the sheets she laid on. Her head was facing towards Amren with her golden brown hair fanned out in the other direction.

A sheet covered her lower back and legs, her upper back left completely bare, allowing me to see the state her back was in. The majority of the skin on her back was gone or shredded, angry red marks in their place, blood dribbling out from the wounds. Wounds that should have been healing. The sight almost made me vomit. On the bed next to her was a bowl filled with bloody scraps of metal.

My knees gave out and I fell to the floor, leaning against the edge of the bed. I pressed my forehead to her temple and breathed her in. Under the cloying scent of roses was the smell of Feyre that I loved, one mingled with my own scent.

"Feyre," I whispered shakily, unsure of whether she could even hear me in her unconscious state. It was a few seconds before I lifted my head to face my Inner Circle, all of their faces grim. "What the hell happened?"

Mor was in too bad of a state to explain from her spot at the foot of the bed, so Cassian spoke instead.

"We think that the King of Hybern has lost patience with Tamlin, so he decided to give him some extra incentive to get the Book back from us. Az's spies told him that he let part of his army have some fun in one of the Spring Court cities. They were sacking the city, slaughtering men and women, even children. They had these cannons, filled with shrapnel, to cause more damage to the victims. It was chaos. Tamlin and Lucien had went into the city to try and stop the army with forces of their own."

He stopped for a moment and looked at Feyre's mangled back before continuing. "Feyre followed them out there to help, disobeying Tamlin's _orders_. She was fighting with them against Hybern's soldiers and creatures. There was a child in the path of one of the cannons and Feyre used one of her shields and herself to protect the child."

My mind was spinning. With her shield protecting her, she shouldn't have gotten injured. Even if the cannonball had gotten through her shields, she would be healing.

"Tell me," I said through gritted teeth.

"Ada pulled out some larger pieces, but we think that the majority of it was powdered and put into the cannonballs with the shrapnel," Cassian went on as Ada handed me a smaller bowl with a few pieces of cleaned bluish stone. My heart clenched at the wrongness of the material. It was the same stone that had been used when I was captured during the war and again when Feyre and I were shot from the sky.

Ada spoke next. "We don't know how much of the powdered stone is in her wounds, High Lord, but the fact that she is not healing tells us that it's there. The problem is that I don't know how to get the powder from her back. Unlike the larger bit, I can't pull them out by hand and magic is useless." She bowed her head. "I apologize."

 _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

The ancient material was horrifying. Having one's magic rendered useless felt like being trapped underwater, the pressure of the power constantly pushing to get out. The longer the exposure to the stone, the more painful and draining the effects.

A small part of me was glad that Feyre was unconscious and didn't have to deal with it, though I could tell that she was still hurting based on the tightness on her face and the sweat beading on her brow. I gently ran my hand through her hair and kissed her temple before standing, my hand holding hers.

"How did she end up back home?" I asked no one in particular. As glad as I was to have my mate back in the Night Court, her presence was no doubt missed by Tamlin.

"The Fae, Alis," Azriel answered. "She's been skeptical of Tamlin ever since trapping Feyre, so it seems like she was invested in helping Feyre. She found some way to contact us when they brought her injured body back to the mansion. Mor winnowed us in and we bought Alis and Feyre back."

"And why didn't you tell me the moment you learned this information?" I asked them, deathly quiet.

Mor straightened. "You were getting us allies for a war, Rhysand. We rescued our High Lady without telling you because Feyre would have wanted you to focus on easing the tension with Tarquin."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, but she was right. Feyre would want this war ended, innocent lives saved. I couldn't be mad at any of them, in fact, I was grateful. They had gotten her out of the Spring Court and brought her back to me. I took a deep breath.

"What're our options? How so we save her?" I asked the room. I could sense that they were all a bit at a loss. Feyre was my mate, but she had wriggled her way into all of our hearts. She may have been their High Lady, but Feyre had always been family first.

"We've been trying to figure out what to do since we got her back, but we don't know how to get the stone dust out of the wound. Magic obviously isn't an option and the dust particles are too small to extract by hand, so we got a bit stuck," Cassian said from his seat, now resting his elbows in his knees. His bandaged wings flared out slightly behind him as they did when he was irritated.

I turned to Ada, "How long can she s-survive in this condition?" My voice cracked mid-question as I ran my free hand into my hair.

The brunette turned to me. "I am more worried about the wound itself. Since the stone is preventing the injury from healing, it is exposed flesh, infection could be deadly. The commander said that aside from preventing the use of magic, the stone saps energy and pain is a side effect. This is not something I've ever encountered, I would say perhaps a week, if that."

An hour later, I was still by Feyre's side as I tried to figure how to save her. Once the stone particles were removed, her ability to heal would kick in and everything would be alright. The question was how to accomplish that task.

Amren, Cassian, and Azriel had gone to do research to see if they could find anything about the ancient stone while Mor had gone to talk to Alis about the happenings at Spring Court. Although wary of her previous ties to the Spring Court, if Feyre trusted the Fae servant, she would have a place in the Night Court. She had helped Feyre from the start, taking care of her, protecting her, even telling her how to easily ensnare a Suriel.

I bolted up from my spot next to my mate. A Suriel. A Suriel would know how to combat the stone and thanks to Feyre and Alis, I knew exactly how to catch one.

"Morrigan!" I yelled for my cousin, who came running with the tree bark-skinned female at her heels. I didn't stop to explain anything as I told the two of them to watch over Feyre as I grabbed one of my cloaks from the wardrobe and went into the forest.

Not a hunter like Feyre, I used my magic to fashion a snare before tossing the black cloak into the center. I winnowed into a nearby tree and waited, anxious to be away from Feyre. Less than an hour later, I heard the snap of my trap and returned to the ground.

Even in the dark, the Suriel was grotesque as Feyre had described: a skinless faerie with milky white eyes, slits as nostrils, lipless with teeth that were too long embedded in black gums. The bony and veiny creature was wearing a cloak, a cloak I recognized as Feyre's. This was the same Suriel that Feyre had captured when we had been shot out of the sky, the one that had revealed to her that I was her mate.

"Hello, High Lord," the Suriel said, its voice a mess of contradictions, one and many, old and young, beautiful and grotesque. If I had been anyone but the most powerful High Lord in history, I may have been a bit scared. Part of me wondered why it was so easy to ensnare the creature when my past two attempts were completely futile, but that was a question for another day.

"Suriel," I drawled out, my High Lord mask on. "I am in need of some answers, promptly."

The creature was practically petting the cloak I had used to trap it. Unsurprisingly, it was a black cloak with my signature gold and silver embroidery as the only embellishment. Like much of my clothing, it was finely made, but unlike Feyre, it was absolutely replaceable.

"You want to know how to save your mate, Feyre Cursebreaker, High Lady of the Night Court," it said in that unnerving voice. I only nodded in response, shoving my hands into the pockets of my pants. "I will keep this short since we do not have much time. The stone that the King of Hybern uses is ancient. There is only one way to counteract its power. There is a rare flower, as old as Prythian itself, which eats away at the stone and will render the stone useless. Create a salve with the flower and spread if over Feyre Cursebreaker's wound, that should do the trick."

"What does this flower look like? Where do I find it?" I asked, internally letting out a sigh of relief knowing that I would be able to save Feyre. In the back of my mind, a question of why this task was so easy arose.

"The flowers are small, each petal the size of a finger nail with a deep purple center. In the light, the petals are white, but in the darkness, they glow like the stars. You can find them in the beach caves found on the north side of your little prison island."

"Thank you," I offered. I quickly used my magic to snap the snare around the Suriel's knobby ankle.

"My brethren and I choose will support your efforts in whatever means we can. With you and your mate fighting side by side, you will gain necessary allies needed to turn the tides of the war. Save our lands." I could only stare as the Suriel spoke. Having the Suriel behind the Night Court would mean having access to invaluable information. "Move quickly, High Lord," it said in answer as it slung the coat over a shoulder. "The High Lady will die by sunrise otherwise."

I bowed almost imperceptibly. The Suriel had given me much more than I'd anticipated, but I couldn't dwell on it just yet. I winnowed north of the Prison, landing on the beach before taking off into the air. Though the island was part of my lands, I tried to avoid being anywhere near the island unless absolutely necessary.

There were only a few hours before sunrise, so I flew swiftly in search of one of the caves the Suriel spoke up. It wasn't long before I found one, a few bunches of the tiny white, glowing flowers scattered here and there. I collected all of them before winnowing back to Velaris.

"She's getting worse, Rhysand," Amren said the moment I appeared in the room. Everyone was back in the room, gathering around my mate's form on the bed. Even unconscious, she was gripping the ivory silk sheets in fist and a layer of sweat covered every exposed inch of skin. The wound looked more grotesque than before, more red and angrier.

I handed Ada, who was feeding Feyre a liquid that smelled like a pain tonic, the punch of flowers. "Use these to make a salve to spread on the wound. Quickly," I added. She nodded curtly and hurried from the out of the room.

Everyone else was looking at me for an explanation. "Suriel." They knew any further explanation would have to wait until I knew Feyre was alright. Mor went back to petting Feyre's limp hair, Cassian pacing at the foot of the bed, Azriel in the corner, and Amren standing at the window.

Trying not to jostle my mate, I climbed onto the bed and sat cross-legged next to her, pulling her hand into mine so she gripped it instead of the sheets. She shifted slightly. I wanted to use my magic to take away her pain, to whisper into her mind that I was there, that she would be okay, but the stone in her back essentially created a solid wall between us preventing me from doing anything to help her.

The healer shuffled back in fifteen minutes later with a small wooden bowl in her hands, the concoction within smelling like mint, thyme, and something ancient. She moved to the side of the bed, forcing Mor to move, and looked at me for approval. I nodded, nothing was going to make this situation any worse and if the Suriel had lied to me, it would pay.

Ada scooped up the some of the greenish paste into her hand and gently spread it out around Feyre's wound. My made tensed up slightly before relaxing. It meant that something was going right. Ada covered the angry flesh with a generous amount of the salve before setting the bowl down on the bedside table. I could tell that everyone, including myself, was holding their breath as if we would see instant results.

As the minutes passed, I could tell that the Suriel had not lied. Feyre's body was becoming less tense, the salve relieving some pain. Ever so slowly, I could also slowly feel the mating bond that Feyre and I shared coming back alive.

 _I love you_ , I whispered down the bond over and over again as I stroked her hand.

My Inner Circle crept out of the room, one by one, but continued to watch as the salve was absorbed into my mate's back. Color returned to her skin and the wound seemed became less angry and shrunk in size, Feyre's magic working to heal her as the flower at away at the stone.

Twenty minutes later, I was practically gaping at Feyre's back. The wound was practically healed, the skin of her back pink and scarred, but I was certain that between her powers and the flower, that would disappear as well. The energy that had been coursing through my body since I first returned to the House of Wind was faltering, exhaustion taking its place, but I refused to close my eyes.

It was hours later before Feyre stirred in the bed, the sun just starting to warm up the sky. I had been staring out the window, mindlessly running my thumb over the skin of her hand, but immediately turned to face my High Lady, my queen, my equal. Her blue-gray eyes looking at me.

"Rhys," she managed to croak out. I knew tears that I had refuse to acknowledge earlier were collecting in my eyes. I had almost lost her, almost lost the best thing that had happened to me in my half millennia of existence. My entire body almost collapsed in relief as I gave her the smile that I reserved solely for her.

Carefully helping her sit up, I pulled her hand up to my lips, pressing a kiss to the smooth skin before lightly tugging her into my arms. My arms wrapped around her slim body, one around her bare shoulders and the other snaking around her waist as I buried my nose in her neck. This was the first time in months that I had her in my arms and it was like I was finally home, my heart and soul whole again.

"Gods, Feyre," I whispered into the crook of her neck. "I thought I was going to lose you."

Her arms moved around me, a hand gently caressing where the spot where my wing met my back and I shuddered at the motion. "I'm alright, Rhys," she said quietly. "I'm alright."

I pulled away from her, taking her head gently in my hands, eyes roving over every inch of her face. I had never missed anything as much as I had missed my mate while she was spying in the Spring Court, not even flying while under Amarantha's rule. Her eyes seemed to do the same, a weak smile pulling at her lips.

"I love you, Feyre," I murmured against her lips as I kissed her. _And we have two months of_ love _to make up for_ , I sent down our mating bond as I gently laid her back against the pillows, my lips and hands unable to resist touching her.

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If you can't already tell, I'm kind of a fan of the idea that the Suriel are total Feysand shippers, hence why trapping one and getting answers were so easy for Rhys this time around.

I'm kind of playing with the idea of writing more one-shots for both ACOTAR and ToG. It is less of a commitment than an actual book.

Anyways, if you like this, let me know through reviews and other loving. Also if you have ideas for one-shots you'd want to see, whether AU or in SJM's world.


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